


silhouette of the cedar

by ofrainyskiesandviolets



Series: derry girls: trying to be pretty canon in between episodes [5]
Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Friendship, I love the idea of James and Orla as best friends, I will die on that hill, Not a ship fic, Sort of hurt/comfort, orla and james' relationship is strictly platonic in this, there's humor in it too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24976630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofrainyskiesandviolets/pseuds/ofrainyskiesandviolets
Summary: Post 1x5While bunking down in the caravan, Orla follows James when he not-so-gracefully tries to sneak outside. They talk and pass the time, and Orla feels a bit like they're on some fun adventure, sleeping outside and enjoying the oddities of the world around them. She appreciates every minute of it.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: derry girls: trying to be pretty canon in between episodes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615570
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	silhouette of the cedar

**Author's Note:**

> This one is from Orla's point of view, which is a daunting task, given as one of her main character traits is the fact that no one knows what's going on in her head. Hopefully I pulled it off. I relate to Orla a fair bit on her strange mannerisms, but she's on a whole other level (and we love her for it). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. I gotta write a story without any angst, jfc. This one's got a fair bit of humor in it, though.
> 
> the title is from a sufjan stevens song lol
> 
> Apologies for any typos and mistakes, I always go back and reread and am constantly making changes.

Orla is in a tentative, half-dreaming state, her subconscious rolling the day’s events around—from the kind fellow who hitched a ride with them, to the cracker tent which he’d taken. It was a bummer that he’d taken it, seeing as orange really was a great color, and she had been planning on bunking down with the boys to enjoy the tent’s comforts. She loved her Granda Joe and her Uncle Gerry, and James too, so she had really been looking forward to it. Why should they have all the fun of sleeping outside? Her mam rarely let her sleep in the yard, no matter how much she begged, and the few times she’d caved, she absolutely _never_ joined her, and Orla had been excited to have camping buddies. 

She gets woken from her twilight state to James stumbling out of the caravan into the night. He does so quite clumsily, actually. They all barely fit in the caravan, piled in on top of each other, and it was hard to move around without punting someone or crashing into something. The girls had crammed themselves onto the pull-out beds and the benches (except for her, she thought sleeping on the floor was a grand idea), and the men, including James, had sprawled out on the ground. She was half under the table, always enjoying looking up at the bottom of tables, seeing and appreciating the bits that never got to get seen. 

Curiosity brings Orla out after him—she moves much more nimbly than her English friend, easily stepping over her granda, grabbing her sweater and slipping out the door. The air is cool and almost sharp, but refreshing. It smells like soil and dew and petrol. James has crossed the dirt path and is sitting in the grass, back pressed up against the trunk of an old, gnarled cedar tree, picking at the blades of grass beside him. She almost doesn’t see him under its sloping, fanned branches, clothed in its shadow. 

Orla makes her way over and sits besides him. The soil is slightly damp from the nighttime mist, but she doesn’t mind. It’s cool underneath her, and the caravan had got a little stuffy with everyone crammed in there. It didn’t really bother her, but she has to admit that the fresh air is nicer. She knew she was right to want to sleep in the tent. They sit in silence for a few moments, both quite naturally quiet people. 

“Sorry if I woke you, Orla.” James is still pulling up blades off grass and breaking them into pieces, splitting them down the middle vein and letting the different sections fall into his lap. It almost looks like a strange nervous tic, but who is she to judge really? Maybe it’s nice. She rips up a piece of her own, and finds the process is soothing in its repetition. 

“I don’t mind, really. It’s nice out.” James mutters agreement, wrapped up in his dismemberment of the grass and the fallen leaves. Orla looks up at the tree branches above her; a squirrel sits perched high up in the cedar. She stares into his eyes and he stares back. She’d like to think he’s saying hello. “Have you ever set leaves on fire?” James finally looks up at her, a confused, twisted expression on his face. 

“No? Have you?”

“Yeah, it’s cracker.” Orla pulls her lighter from the pocket of her jacket, always nestled there, ready to act when she wants to melt something she’s stumbled upon. There’s a cracked, dead leaf between the pair, and she holds it by the crisp stem and brings the flame of her light to the tip. It glows orange in the dark, and the flame wavers as the breeze picks up, climbing down the body of the leaf, the edges curling in on themselves as they burn. James watches with rapt attention, looking slightly awestruck. Orla thinks it’s gas that someone else seems to understand the appeal of melting stuff. She doesn’t really think about how others view it, but she was never one to turn down company. She stamps the leaf out as the flame nears the end of it. “Try it.” 

James takes the lighter from her hand tentatively. It's bright green and stands out in the cloak of darkness. He picks up one of the browning leaves and lights it, and they both sit in silence watching the fire swallow up the leaf. The air smells burnt in the way it does when her mammy leaves her hair coiled up in her curling iron for too long. James leaves the leaf burning for longer than she had—it begins to lick at the stem, which was already shorter than her leaf’s had been, and licks dangerously close to his fingers. 

“James.” She doesn’t know why that sits so uncomfortably with her (maybe it has something to do with the forlorn aura that he’d been radiating since she came out here), but she wants him to stamp it out. She doesn’t like the thought of people she cares for getting hurt. 

He snaps out of it and drops the leaf, muttering _sorry_ , and even though the flame is teetering on the edge of burning itself out, Orla digs her heel into it for good measure.

“Are you okay?” In the time that she’s known James, Orla has become quite fond of him, considering him one of the closest friends she’s got—sometimes she’d even go as far as to say he’s her best friend, seeing as he’s always kind and fun to have around—and she doesn’t like seeing her friends upset, and the energy he’s had since she came out here has been decidedly glum. It’s sad to see her friends sad.

There are some lollipops in her other jacket pocket, unwrapped and pristine, and she pulls two out and hands one to James. They unwrap them and go about sucking at the treat while they sit there (her’s is cherry, an absolutely banging flavor). She scoots a little closer to him and pushes her elbow into his side, a gentle nudge to get him to open up, trust her. He sighs, and pulls his knees to his chest resignedly. 

“I don’t know, Orla,” James breathes, sounding hesitant and unsure of himself. “Everything was just a bit intense today. Not just with the March and all. It felt like everyone was slagging me off constantly, pointing out me being English, or not understanding things here, and then I lost the tent, and I don’t know… I guess it just got me missing home, feeling out-of-place.” 

“Ach, that’s brutal.” Orla wraps herself around James’ arm and leans her chin against his shoulder. “Life’s got a funny way of doing that, tossin’ things at you so quick that you can’t keep up.” James snorts and lets his head drop against hers. She loves when she feels close to her friends and family. 

“It’s like fuckin’ whiplash.” 

“Aye, so it is. Sometimes things get all tangled up, when they’re movin’ that fast; everyone means well, ye know? No one hates you or wants to do your head in or anything. At least I don’t think so. I guess I can’t really speak for the others, but I know I don’t.” James laughs.

“Thanks, Orla.” He disentangles himself from her and lays back on the grass, staring up through the canopy and into the sky. She slides down next to him and presses her side into his. The squirrel is gone, but the tree dances in the breeze, and she can see stars and sky peeking through the different gaps that crop up. 

“Yeah, you’re right up there with Granda Joe when it comes to class fellas.” Things do move pretty fast, all over the world, but particularly in Derry. Orla can’t dispute that, but she enjoys these quiet moments that slow things down, give you a chance to catch your breath before you go into the next big thing. It reminds you that the world isn’t completely minus craic. She is very quickly struck with an urgent question. “Hey, what flavor is yours?” 

James laughs and pulls the candy out of his mouth, studies its color closer, to the best of his ability in the low light. 

“Um… Blue raspberry, I think?”

“Aye, sound. Cheers to that.” They tap the lollipop sticks against each other, and go back to their stargazing and treat-eating. Orla curls a bit further into James, feeling sleepy and enjoying the comfort of being with someone she cares for. 

The next morning, Auntie Mary and Uncle Gerry find them asleep under the cedar, shroud half in the tree’s shadows and half in the low lines of the rich marmalade sunrise, curled up on a bed of lollipop sticks, torn up-grass and half-burnt leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope I pulled off Orla's POV at least somewhat lol. Have a lovely day/evening/night :))
> 
> If you're reading my story _These Roots Come Caving In_ , I'm working on Act III, don't worry. I just figured I'd come back to this series and get something different out of my system for a change.


End file.
